Twirl For Me
by MercurialNight
Summary: Until every trace is gone, everything he left, she will always be deluding herself into thinking he was still here. Oneshot. Vicious spoilers involving Cinna, so be warned. Post-Catching Fire, though separate from the timeline; it may not fit.


**A/N:** Holy spazz! I actually sat down and wrote this thing in less than an hour. I never do that. I'm proud of myself.^^  
>Anyways. I have no idea at what point timewise this could possibly occur, though for obvious reasons it's after the second Games. First off: spoiler alert. Second: I've only read the first and second books, so DON'T SPOILER ME. Hah =P<p>

This was just an aimless little plot bunny I decided to write after I recently read the events involving Cinna in the second book that shattered my heart and crushed my soul into bits of sobbing dust. Enjoy!

...T_T

* * *

><p>Entering the room was just as horrible as she knew it would be.<p>

The moment her hand slowly pushed open the door, depression blasted from the opening like a cold wind. Katniss had been braced against it, but still the weight dragged her down, impossible to resist. The feeling hollowed her out, making her feel like an echoing cavern. And so alone.

Eyes narrowing, she gripped the roll of garbage bags in her fist and stepped inside.

The large rectangular room was dark and tinted from the curtains, so dark a blue they almost seemed black. Feet storming over the cushioned carpet, she crossed the room and flipped aside the nearest set of curtains, but pale evening light did little good. For a minute, she considered getting a light, but she didn't bother. She would have rather do this in the dark.

The trash bag snapped through the silence with the sound of rumpling plastic as she shook it out, opening it with air. It would be over with as soon as she started. After a moment of statue-like stillness, she finally forced her eyes to lift and scan over the objects of her attention. The ones her talent had supposedly created.

Taking up the entire room, the dresses and outfits were draped over mannequins or hanging in protective bags from rods strung to the ceiling. Several stood out because of their bright color in the dimly lit room. A spring green strapless dress with long sleeves and rich blue lining. Another red one with a long train. One asymmetrical white dress, adorned in gems, with one strap and a waterfall of fabric falling where one's left leg would be. A pink frock decorated with yellow and red jewels was foremost among them.

It had been so long since she'd seen any of them. She couldn't hate the prep team for saving them. But she hated that they'd been saved. Better that they had stayed at her home, where fires that took Twelve could destroy them so she wouldn't have to.

And of all the things to save, they had kept _these_ things, and leave his greatest work lost somewhere in the Capitol. Who knows what happened to it. Her mockingjay dress was long gone from the world.

Katniss strode forward, homing in on the pink frock. She unceremoniously took it from its hangar. Remembering Effie's pink hair the day of the reaping, Katniss had no problem tossing it into her trash bag. One by one, the dresses disappeared from the racks. She couldn't go near the mannequins yet. Too lifelike, yet devoid of anything. She stuck to the racks for now.

But as the clothing ran through her fingertips, her hands began to slow, and her eyes to catch on every outfit. Soon the fabric was sliding into the bag like silken snakes, instead of tossed inside. And then, she stood before a mannequin wearing the most beautiful dress swirled with orange, white, black, and gold.

Her fingers ran over the smooth silken fabric, each fold a tongue of flame. The colors blended in patterns of brilliant orange, red like embers, and the richest golden shine. Gold like his eyeliner.

She could never throw it out. Cinna was in every stitch.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the clothes lining the room. He worked so hard on these. She remembered Effie once mentioned he stayed up late working on her garment car. Looking into the trash bag, her will collapsed under the weight of guilt. Who was she kidding? She could never get rid of a single one.

Katniss's eyes return to the swirl-patterned dress of orange and gold.

"_Get __dressed,__ you __worthless __thing.__"_

The next few minutes found her in front of the full-length mirror in the corner, the silky dress swirling around her knees. Her dark brown hair went with it perfectly. It would look better in a braid.

Her fingers tried clumsily to duplicate the hairstyle. But when she had failed over and over, she dropped her hands in frustration and jerked her hair free of the tangled mess, letting it hang loose and frazzled, and in the mirror watched her eyes turn red and shiny. She wished for his slender hands, so adept and graceful with braiding. So smart and sure.

Katniss bit back a sob, looking away from her awful face and down at Cinna's beautiful dress. An image flashed across her brain, and for two seconds she was trembling in front of the Capitol crowd in her yellow girlish dress, eyes sifting through the sea of faces in search of his gold-lined eyes.

And she saw him, smiling beautifully, a friend in an ocean of strangers and enemies. His voice echoed as clearly as if he were standing at her back, staring over her head into the mirror.

"_Twirl for me."_

The rising cry broke free, and she threw her hands above her head, launching herself into a spin that sent the dress flying out in a floating, fluttering swirl of fire. She spun until she was dizzy, and even then kept going, knowing it would be over if she stopped again.

Her foot caught on the stand of the mirror, toppling her to the floor. The dress fanned out around her.

Curled in the middle of the floor, Katniss shut her eyes, waiting for the room to stop moving, waiting for the tears to subside. Waiting for Cinna to disappear.

She lay there long after he had.


End file.
